Discomfort isn’t an unusual phenomenon. Even though he’d have easily acted dismissive about it at that time, Cecil knew that specific type of discomfort where he’s idle, but didn’t want to be. He would have his options laid around him to change that situation, but as he analyzed each path to take, a huge wall would suddenly block his path. The wall could be a representation of an actual obstacle in reality, or maybe it’s that part of him that wants every decision he makes to be a definite one. That he shouldn’t even dare take a step forward if there’s any sliver of hesitation in his system.
Which he did dare to do, considering his presence in this party. He felt sick about that fact, but Cecil has plowed through his school years despite the days when his head and eyes hurt, when standing up takes so much effort, when he feels so disgusted by himself with an ill condition and he wants to die he just wants some rest but I couldn’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t—
He wanted to do something, but when he saw a way to do that, he’d find that he doesn’t want to go that way, but he still wants to reach that goal. But he doesn’t want to—and he couldn’t make up his mind.
Take his situation tonight for example. He’s at this big house party and watching his classmates engage in bouts of stupidity. At the end of the day, it was his decision to agree attending the party, to make sure you enjoy yourself, sweetheart, and if Cecil could find himself the smallest bit of entertainment here, then he’d call that a success. Witnessing his classmates freely make a fool out of themselves was amusing at first, but then after a moment Cecil finds that it wasn’t enough. He wanted to force himself to think that the fact that he managed to let out a chuckle in this kind of place was already a miracle, but then he’d find another student happily dance and laugh and can’t I have fun here too, should I do something, should I just at least talk to someone—but no. He should look away, keep his distance away from them. He knew better.
Cecil looked around, every suggestion in his head shut down by the excuses flying around his head.
Grab a drink—no, no alcohol.
Eat something—no, it could be laced with something.
Talk to someone—I don’t like that person, I don’t know that person, why would I even want to talk? What would I even say?
He was used to standing still, to stay quiet, to just smile and say something courteous or intelligent. But the current event in this house requires none of that, and Cecil is lost.
Relax—not with this many chaotic people.
He always knew he was alone. But feeling lonely? Out of place? So unsure of himself and what to do? Shit.
Enjoy—how? Mom and Ma told me to—what would Grandma or Grandpa say if they saw me now—but do they even care now that I’ve—god.
God, I’m pathetic.
So Cecil stood still for a moment, and finally, finally, he made a decision that he was sure of. He moved and went upstairs, his eyes scanning over the rooms and trying to guess which one is vacant. He went straight for one, carefully twisting the doorknob to check if it’s locked, then peeking his head inside to see if he’d find another person inside.
There was no one.
Good.
He didn’t find anything inside the room that looks personal or anything like that, so he’d hazard a guess that this is a guest room.
He went inside and immediately locked the door. Just like that, he slid down leaning against the door until he’s just sitting down with his knees slightly huddled.
If he’s going to be pathetic and sad and uncertain and vulnerable—then he’d rather be somewhere nobody could see him.
He’s alone. Again.
He could still hear the loud music from outside, but other than that, it felt like time has stopped inside this room. It’s just him, and a sort of familiar silence and solitude.
Cecil regrets this decision and shit what do I do and fuck I don’t want to go outside either.
It’s a party—I should talk to someone—I don’t know or like most of the people here—but—
I do know and like some people that are probably here.
And Cecil knows someone who he is sure would be the only person suitable for his situation.
Long and wavy pastel green hair appeared in his mind, followed by the smiling boy who used to have shorter brown curls. And just a little bit, Cecil calmed down at the thought of Declyn.
He could...he could talk to Declyn. Cecil hasn’t seen him yet, but he could find him.
But he also doesn’t want to go outside and get overwhelmed like that again, at least for awhile.
I could text him. Ask him where he is. Chat. Just for a bit.
He fished his phone out of his pocket, and then he was left with his thumb hovering the keyboard, trying to think of what to send.
Soon enough, he went with something. He just...needs to calm down for now. Declyn’s really good at that, somehow. Calming him. And Cecil just really needs to get out of his head but also not step out of his comfort zone at the same time.
Here he was, sitting on the floor all pitiful in an empty locked room in a party, clutching on a conversation through text like it’s a lifeline. Fuck.Cecil wrote:Declyn
>So I’m at a party. Now what?